Silver Moraine yūkan na

it is with the most deadpan of looks that he fixes this arrogant bull. tourmaline eyes searching: first his face. raking across ginger and brown, then dropping along broad shoulders.
it is his words that strike most. masa betrays nothing, even going so far as to fake confusion; the knitting of his brow, the slight narrow of his eyes. the twitch of a lip.
it is he with the dick-face, masa thinks. nontheless, masa takes a long stride forwards—seeking to close some distance that permeated betwixt them. and with a draw of breath: yes, yes, a good day. masa agrees carefully, each word slower than the last. no need for apologies. his tongue slides across teeth. not everyone speaks the same language.
he pushes past him, harshly, brusquely. circling to the other side of him with movements most feline, eyes cutting to follow his face, unswerving gaze. he comes closer, invading his personal space with his head.
でも、私はあなたの名前を聞いたと思うよ、あなたは本当に頭の悪いクソ野郎だ。